Chapter 18

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AN: I confess that I have hit a writer's block in this story…uh oh. I know how the story will end, but I need a sort of filler for the years between the kidnapping and Boromir's death/War of the Ring. Here's the good part: I need ideas/suggestions from my loyal readers! I'll mention the names of the people who gave me the ideas in the next chapter. For now, I give you two drabbles about Faramir's healing, these are in line with the story. Thanks for your patience!

Two months dragged on by. Faramir had healed and was sleeping in his own room now. His father promised that he would be starting sword lessons within the next three days. But even two months after Ceredon and his men had been executed, Faramir still felt the fear.

As he lay in his own bed late at night, Faramir stared at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. He found himself staring at the door. He wanted to know if anyone was coming. The light of the candle still flickered in the night. He needed that light. He was frightened that if he were to fall asleep, he would wake up bound and Ceredon kneeling down beside him, threatening his life.

Finally, he couldn't stand it.

He pulled the tapestry aside. He pulled the door to the passageway open and crawled through. He had the oddest sensation of fear as he crawled through the tunnel, but then he realized that it reminded him of the crate he was kept in. His breathing grew rapid, and he wanted to escape this. He crawled faster, closing his eyes, fighting the fear.

He pushed the door to Boromir's room open, ignoring the giant tapestry that hid it. He crawled out, ducked under the tapestry, and rushed to his brother. He was sleeping. He barely moved when he slept.

Faramir shook him awake. "Boromir?"

Boromir looked up at his brother with half-open eyes and half-heartedly moaned. "Go back to sleep."

"I haven't slept."

Boromir fully opened his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Faramir breathed heavily, rubbing his shoulders. "I…I…I…don't…"

Boromir saw the horrified look on his brother's face. At the slightest sound, he jumped. His eyes were huge with fear. His body shook. He was whimpering slightly.

"Come on," Boromir invited. He scooted over in the bed, sitting against the backboard. Faramir crawled in and rested on his brother's pillow. He looked up at his big brother and started crying. Tears drenched the pillow within minutes.

"Hush, Faramir. It's alright." Boromir stroked his little brother's hair, moving it away from his face.

"I can't walk without realizing that my legs can move," Faramir cried. "I'm so scared sometimes! I just…" He sat up and grasped his brother's torso tightly. "Please, just…keep me safe!"

"I always will," Boromir whispered lovingly, hugging him tight. Faramir laid against Boromir, crying his eyes out.

"Why aren't you frightened?" Faramir asked Boromir. "Why aren't you worried if someone will take you?"

"I am. That was frightening, Faramir."

It was silent for a few moments, but then Faramir lamented, "You're stronger than me, that's why!"

"What?"

Faramir cried more. "You can lift a sword. I can't. You could get away from the kidnappers and I just sat there like a pathetic animal not doing anything!"

Boromir clutched Faramir's face with the love of a big brother. He forced his little brother to stare at him. "Faramir, you listen to me! You were so brave! You didn't tell them where the treasury was under penalty of death! You got away! You told me that! You saw the bolt was loose when I didn't and you got away! You had the bravery to not hurt Garapen after all that he did to us! Faramir, you are strong! You're so strong! Don't you ever let anyone tell you that you're weak! Because you are worth more than you realize! And I love you too much to see you suffer!"

Faramir laid there, soaking in his big brother's words. It felt so good to hear them. He needed that type of encouragement. He was strong. He knew it. But, there were times when living in his big brother's shadow made him doubt. But the owner of the shadow telling him that he was worth something was all worthwhile.

Gandalf announced that he would be leaving. Faramir was in the archery range when he heard, and he rushed to say his good-bye.

"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" Faramir ran to the grey-cloaked man as he mounted a horse.

"Why, Faramir! Hello!" Gandalf got off of his horse and greeted the boy with a tight embrace. "How are you fairing?"

"Well, thank you. Is it true that you are leaving?"

"Yes. Other friends of mine are in need. I must go to them."

"Will I see you again, Mithrandir?"

"We shall see." Gandalf saw the boy's sad eyes. There was sadness in saying goodbye to his friend, but there was something else. Something that would take years to heal.

Gandalf put his gruff, smoke smelling hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Know this, Faramir: you do have strength. Sometimes strength is not in your muscles or your accomplishments. Sometimes strength is in your willingness to do the unexpected and to do what some people may think weak. Why, you may have enough strength to save this country. For all we know, you may save the world!"

"That's my brother, Mithrandir."

The wizard only smiled and said, "I wouldn't be so sure."